


home depot catalog

by moonguilt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Keith/Lance (Voltron), Suggestive Themes, it's not technically nsfw but i'm rating it M just in case, lance is a little shit, pushing keith's buttons... it's what he's best at!, there is reference to nsfw stuff & also implied activities so.. im not taking any chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonguilt/pseuds/moonguilt
Summary: “No, really, he’d love to,” Lance said into the phone, just as Keith pressed the button for the kettle to start heating up.Those words were enough to raise Keith’s suspicions just a tad.  He shot Lance an inquisitive glance while opening the cabinet to retrieve his box of morning tea, but his husband was the picture of innocence, flipping casually through a Home Depot catalog they had received in the mail yesterday.“Oh, definitely.  If you need someone to paint your insides white, Keith’s your man.”Keith dropped his box on the counter, tea bags spilling out onto the granite.-----Keith is having a normal, relaxing morning.  Lance throws him a curveball.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 254





	home depot catalog

“Yeah, of course. Oh, no, it’s no problem.”

Keith was in the middle of filling an electric kettle with water when Lance walked into their kitchen, phone in hand, and sat down in a stool at the opposite end of the island. He was dressed in his pajamas still—he always was a late riser, and in fact was probably only awake right now because he had to answer a call. Keith could see it in the sleep-rumpled crease of his faded black tee—Keith was pretty sure that was _his,_ actually—and in the puffy squint of his eyes.

“No, really, he’d love to,” Lance said, just as Keith pressed the button for the kettle to start heating up.

Those words were enough to raise Keith’s suspicions just a tad. He shot Lance an inquisitive glance while opening the cabinet to retrieve his box of morning tea, but his husband was the picture of innocence, flipping casually through a Home Depot catalog they had received in the mail yesterday.

“Oh, definitely. If you need someone to paint your insides white, Keith’s your man.”

Keith dropped his box on the counter, tea bags spilling out onto the granite.

“Mhm,” Lance continued, either ignoring or entirely oblivious to Keith’s gaze locked onto him. “Well, he’s a little messy sometimes, but he knows how to get the job done. Besides,” he added, flipping a page and perusing the lighting section, “if you’re very worried about it, it’s nothing a little protection won’t fix.”

Keith shut the cabinet door fully and craned his neck over the island, trying to catch Lance’s attention. It did not work.

“Yeah, just make sure you’ve prepped before he comes over, so he can get right to it.”

Keith’s cheeks flooded with color. He gaped for a moment before hissing in his most scandalized tone, _“Lance.”_

“Mhm.” The man in question just looked up at him and offered him a sunny smile before returning to his catalog. “Right. Well, I don’t pay Keith when we do it, but if you insist. How much?” The crinkle of his page-turning drowned out the strangled noise in Keith’s throat. “Oh, wow, that’s generous. Yeah, he’s definitely gonna be happy with that payment.”

Keith snapped. He stormed over to the other side of the kitchen, feeling his blood boil with indignation. What the _hell_ did Lance think he was up to? What kind of person did he take Keith for?

“I might even take a little myself, you know, as a commission, since I’m the one who arranged the affair—”

Keith yanked the phone out of his hand, pressed it up to his ear, and growled, “Who is this?”

 _“Oh, Keith!”_ came the voice on the other side of the phone. It was—old? Feminine? _“This is Missus O’Connor from across the street. Your Lance here was just telling me you have today off work and can come help me paint my sunroom. Would that be alright?”_

Keith choked. He slowly turned his gaze down to Lance, who was crumpled over his Home Depot catalog, his entire body shaking with the effort to silence his laughter.

“… Yeah,” Keith replied after a moment, his voice cracking. “Yeah, no problem, Missus O.C.”

_“I really appreciate it, Keith! I’ll have all the tarp set up before you come over—I might need a bit of help taping it down though, these old knees just aren’t what they used to be. I promised Lance I’d bake some cookies for you, as a thank-you for all your hard work—and you tell him not to steal any of yours! I’ll give him his own, for being such a nice young man. What a sweetheart, that one. You hold onto him now, Keith, you understand?”_

“Mhm. Yep.” Keith eyed his ‘sweetheart,’ his ‘nice young man,’ as he wheezed helplessly into a collection of clearance sale bathtubs. “He’s a real gentleman.” The wheezes got louder.

_“I’ll see you at around ten, then? Does that work?”_

“Sounds good, Missus O.C. See you at ten. Bye now.”

As soon as the _beep_ of the “end call” button sounded, the quiet broke.

Lance threw his head back with the force of his cackling, his face entirely red as he gasped for breath and chanced a look in Keith’s direction. Whatever expression he saw on Keith’s face threw him into another laughing fit, through which he barely managed to stumble to his feet and turn in Keith’s direction.

“You should have seen the—” He broke off with a sob of laughter, seeking stability by grabbing onto Keith, who was standing perfectly still and staring down at the collapsing ruins of his husband. “You should have seen the look on your face when you heard her little old lady voice on the other end.” He leaned forward, muffling his uncontrollable snickers in the fabric of Keith’s shirt. “Oh my God,” he croaked, leaving tear stains on Keith’s shoulder. “Oh my _God._ ”

“Are you done?” Keith asked, his face glued into a stern frown. He could feel his resolve cracking, the edges of his lips twitching.

“Nope,” Lance said, popping his “p.” He leaned back, cheeks damp, and pressed his lips into a wavering line. “Are you gonna—” He interrupted himself again, this time with an ugly snort. “Are you gonna be a good neighbor and _paint Missus O.C.’s insides whi_ —”

“You’re a fucking menace.” Keith dug his fingers into Lance’s sides, backing him up against the island and relentlessly tickling him, resulting in a shriek and a fresh bout of giggles.

“Mercy!” he begged, wailing and twisting his torso this way and that, to no avail. _“Mercy, Kee-heeiiiiith!”_ His floundering arms managed to land on his catalog. He brandished it like a weapon, then began whacking Keith over the head with it, screeching all the while.

“Ow.” Keith winced and raised a hand to block the attack. _“Ow,_ Lance, papercuts—”

Lance immediately stopped and muttered an “oh shit” as his laughter died down and Keith’s hands came to a halt. “Are you okay?” he asked, one hand holding his catalog frozen in mid-air, the other reaching up to check Keith’s face for papercuts.

Keith furrowed his brows and frowned. “No,” he groused, his hands now rubbing idle patterns into Lance’s hips. “My husband just pimped me out to a grandma and beat me with a—” He peered at the crumpled page to which the catalog had turned during the scuffle. “… _John Deere S160 48 inch 24 HP V-Twin ELS Gas Hydrostatic Lawn Tractor_.”

Lance’s lips quirked back up into their familiar grin. “Aw, _baby_ ,” he cooed, putting down the sad remains of his catalog and placing both hands on either side of Keith’s face.

Keith hummed under the attention, his grip tightening reflexively around Lance’s waist. He always felt soft and gooey when Lance called him that. And the bastard knew it.

“Let me make it up to you.” Lance leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth, prompting the faint twitch of a smile to bloom in the wake of his lips. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour and a half, and you’ve got some time before you have to go help Missus O.C.” His kisses, featherlight and teasing, trailed down to Keith’s jaw.

Keith scoffed, even as heat swirled in the pit of his stomach. “Not five minutes ago, you forced inappropriate images of our elderly neighbor into my head, and you think I’m gonna be in the mood for— _hah_.” His spine tingled as Lance’s mouth latched onto the junction of his ear and neck. “ _Mmmuh.”_ He could feel those mischievous lips curl into a smile against his skin.

“You always go grunt-y on me when I kiss you here,” he whispered, darting a tongue out to mark the location, “you know that?”

“ _Nn._ ”

Lance’s smile widened into a grin, and he nipped at the spot, no doubt just for the fun of feeling Keith’s body rock involuntarily against his own. “Bedroom?” The electric kettle on the counter turned off with a _click_ as the water boiled.

Keith paid it no mind. “Mm,” he agreed, shoving away any thoughts of tea, or paint, or overpriced lawn mowers—because when Lance occupied the brain, he left no room for anything else. And Keith was glad to offer up every last drop of his consciousness if it meant he could hold Lance just a little closer, hear him breathe just a little faster. Make him say Keith’s name just a little louder.

Yeah. No problem at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me at:
> 
> moonguilt.tumblr.com  
> twitter.com/moonguilt


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